Page 25 of Lost Lyrics

The Flintlocks and Tia were all I needed.

At nine o’clock, Duke and his boys were minutes away from hitting the festival stage. I threw a sexy smile at Tia. She usually flirted profusely before a show, throwing me winks and kisses, and making dirty, suggestive gestures with her mouth and sways of her hips. But not today. She just turned back to the soundboard and played with some switches.What the...?She’d been quiet. Off.

The last day of being on the road was always a mix of emotions. There was the high of performing the last show, the excitement of the after-party, and the thrill of heading home—then there was the sadness that it was ending, that you’d be saying goodbye to newfound friends and would miss playing in front of fans. Guessed tonight had gotten her down. I’d make damn sure I’d put a smile on her face by the end of the night.

Five minutes from showtime, the crowd chanted, ‘Crimson Dukes. Crimson Dukes. Crimson Dukes’.

But a commotion at the security barrier caught my eye. Joi, Duke’s stagehand, rushed up to the control panel, spoke to Tia, saw me, then dashed over.

“Lewis,” he panted, his face contorting as he raked in jagged breaths.Fuck! How fast did he run?“Evan is puking his guts up. He reckons the fish tacos he had for lunch were off. It’s going both ends. Are you able to fill in?”

“Shit. Are you serious?” My heartbeat tripled and skipped.Fuck yes, but oh shit!I’d only played with Duke and the boys a couple of times when Tia and I had gone to his and Chloe’splace for dinner. I knew a few of their songs, but not their entire set list. Jumping on stage in front of several thousand people without ever having played their tracks was ludicrous, right?

“We’ve got no backup bassist.” Joi keeled over, clutching his knees. Dude was unfit as fuck. We weren’t that far from the stage. “Mila, our usual guy, can’t get here in time. Please? Duke is begging.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. I was a damn good bassist, but could I do this?

Tia tossed her headset on the panel, ambled over, and slid in beside me. “What’s up?”

“Evan is sick and can’t play.” I tugged on the bottom of her vest, just so I could brush my fingers against her bare stomach. “They want me to fill in.”

“You can do that.” She patted and rubbed my thigh. “You’ll be great.”

After playing with The Flintlocks and touring the world, I no longer suffered from stage fright, but churning out songs I didn’t know injected nausea into my gut.

But I could do this. Hold the rhythm. Easy.

“I can. But Tee, are you okay?” I caught her hand, pleading for her to tell me what was wrong. I wished she’d smile. Stop stressing about babies, and the gig, and running the lights. She’d worked on enough shows to do this with her eyes closed.

“Yeah.” She swiped her troubled brow. “I’m just not feeling the best. I’ll be fine after the show.”

“Did you eat the fish tacos at lunch?” Concern swung in my voice. “That’s what’s hit Evan.”

“No.” She shook her head.

I drew her closer to my side. “You want me to stay with you?”

“No.” She swept her hand down my cheek, then gave it a gentle pat. “Go. Have fun.”

Fun? Hell yeah.“Alright. I’m happy to help.” I slid off the trunk and dusted my hands on my jeans. “But Tee, please don’t flash any lights in my eyes.” Humor rippled through my tone. She often did when I played. It was our thing—for her to let me know she was watching. I secretly fucking loved it.

“No guarantees.” A playful glint flickered through her gaze as she pressed her lips against mine. “You love it when I do.”

I caught her around the middle and drew her close. “I love you watching me.”

“Always do. Love you.” She kissed me again, smacked my ass, and shooed me away. “Go. I’ll make you shine, babe.”

“Okay. But be backstage when we finish.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

After one more kiss, I followed Joi around the outer rim of the crowd into the backstage area. I flashed my VIP access pass and headed up the metal steps and joined the band waiting on the side of the stage behind the gigantic screens. Duke was running through warmup drills. Wolf, their drummer, and Ezra, their lead guitarist, stood at a table, putting on their transmitters and ear monitors.

“Lew. So sorry, man.” Duke dashed over and slapped me on the shoulder. “Are you able to help us?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t usually cocky, but smugness slipped into my tone. “Not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m okay on the bass. I can hold a rhythm and keep up with the beat.”

“Smartass.” Grinning, he shoved me on the shoulder. “But that’s what we need. Attitude. Fire. Let’s rock this joint.”

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